Second First Impressions(23)
Maybe like my sketch-for-coffee deal, it would be better if Teddy had to fix this himself. Besides, he invested a lot in this creature. “If it makes you feel better, you can keep him until his ride arrives. Just keep the box very level, don’t jiggle him around.” We put some bedding material in the box.
Teddy checks the time on his phone and does one of his huge lion-roar yawns. “Shit, I’ve got to start work soon. I have not been awake this early in years.”
I’m perplexed enough to recheck my watch. “It’s eight A.M.” I’m so early for work myself, I give myself a break and sit down on the cold metal chair beside him. Another thing I’ve never done? Actually sat in this courtyard in the morning sunshine.
“I can’t function this early. How bad is today going to be for me? Here’s your drawing,” he adds offhand, scribbling his initials in the bottom corner. I take the page he’s torn out for me. How was this detailed tortoise rendered with so little apparent effort, with a one-dollar biro? I expected a cute cartoon and I now own a one-off piece of art. I need to frame this.
His ego will be inflating but I don’t even care. “Teddy, this is amazing.”
Careless shrug. “So’s this coffee.” He turns over to a fresh sheet in his notebook and begins drawing with loose, easy motions. The outline of a long wool cardigan emerges, shaped onto a female figure. She’s rounded nicely at the breast and hip, and there’s an arch to the back and a flattering slim line to the waist.
I ask, “Where’d you go last night?”
“The bowling alley. Memory Lanes has got this insane thing on the bar menu called Frankenfries, and every now and then I can’t say no to the craving.”
“What are Frankenfries?”
“It’s a chain, so each location has its own version. At this one, it’s french fries, topped with macaroni and cheese”— he’s layering his hands now, TAKE-GIVE-TAKE— “then they put gravy, then a layer of breadcrumbs and it goes under the grill. Before you get it, they put a hotdog frank into it like a torpedo. It looks like dog food. We go there most Friday nights after we close up.” He means his tattoo buddies. Scrolling through his photo album he says absent-mindedly, “I need to look up if there’s one near the new studio.”
He shows me a photo of a hideous pile of food. His friends all crowding over it, pretending they puked it up. Tough guys with piercings and tough girls with presence. “See?” He uses two fingers to zoom the photo. “Yummy dog food.” One of the girls is looking at the camera, and the silly boy holding it. The look in her eye reads loud and clear. He’s divine.
I mean it when I say: “How disgusting.”
“When you need to eat your feelings, it’s the only thing that’ll do.”
“Your feelings must have been pretty gross and mixed up.”
“Yeah. You get it.” Sketch, sketch. “Anyway, that was my sad night. I came back late, imagining myself alone in the world. Then I found your care package and I remembered that there’s nice people everywhere.”
You may have noted that I only gave him one towel.
“I probably should have mentioned this, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring guests on-site. During the day when they’re signed in at the office … that might be okay if a friend wants to visit you. But I need to know every single person on-site. In the event of an emergency.”
“Who would I bring to a retirement villa?”
I can’t bring myself to say it. Don’t bring any of those people from the photo here. I’ve cracked a hole in the wall of my little world, and it’s only big enough for you to squeeze through. Don’t make me hear a woman’s laugh through our wall.
His eyes flash to my face, tortoiseshell vivid. “Ohhh, I get what you’re saying. Not with our thin walls. I wouldn’t traumatize you like that.” He resumes work on his cardigan artwork. He thinks I’m just a kid.
I defend myself like a kid would. “I wouldn’t be traumatized.”
My brain guesses at what I might hear in the dark. A mattress squeaking, the bed headboard nudging rhythmically against the wall. A girl gasping from uncontainable pleasure, the kind you’d feel from his body, his touch, but mostly the intensity of being his sole focus. I imagine his hair curtaining around her face, pooling like black oil on the pillow as he dips down for a kiss.
What would a filterless person like Teddy say in the moment? How carried away would he get, how would his imagination be sparked? He’d apply all that charm in just the right way. I think Teddy would laugh a lot in bed.
And all this would happen on my cloud-print sheets.
I manage to joke, “Okay, maybe I would be traumatized.” I close my mouth to contain the pressure building inside me. There will be zero girls experiencing that here, or I swear I don’t know what I’ll do—
“But since Melanie tells me you’re about to start online dating, maybe you could do me the same courtesy.” He is detailing buttons onto the cardigan sketch and doesn’t look up. “I’m easily traumatized myself.”
“I really don’t think that’s going to be an issue.” I gesture to myself with my thumb.
He starts guessing at what I mean. “Your … cardigan won’t come off. There’s another cardigan under that cardigan, just hundreds of them like a box of tissues. It’s a chastity cardigan. An enchanted cardigan.”